


clashing patterns

by adrianicsea



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Adam Maitland's Big Posthumous Identity Crisis, F/M, Gen, Internalized Biphobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Slice of Life, Trans Female Character, Trans Lydia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2020-10-29 03:40:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20790017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianicsea/pseuds/adrianicsea
Summary: It's been two years since the Deetzes moved in, and Adam couldn't be happier with the sense of family and security that he and Barbara have found with their housemates. But now it's Lydia's senior year, which means she'll be leaving home soon-- and she hasn't even said anything about putting on the annual Maitland-Deetz Haunted House yet, with Halloween just around the corner. Between all of that and the troubling, recurring dreams Adam keeps having about Beetlejuice, Adam has a terrible feeling that a storm is brewing in paradise.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My boyfriend took me to see Beetlejuice on Broadway at the beginning of the month, and ever since that encounter, my life has not known peace. I fell particularly hard for Adam and for his relationship with Beetlejuice-- and since I haven't seen anyone writing that relationship in the way I think of it, I wanted to go ahead and throw my hat in the ring, so to speak. Let me know what you all think! I do have more of this fic written and ready to post, but it's always nice and encouraging to hear that it's wanted!

They didn’t have to sleep anymore, but they did—lifelong habits died hard, and besides, everyone else in the house slept at night, anyways. Barbara never missed an occasion to point out that, in their brief afterlives, they had already seen and encountered far stranger things than ghosts sleeping, and Adam really couldn’t argue that. So, that night, just like every other night since the whole affair had been settled two years ago, Adam and Barbara tucked themselves into the queen bed that Charles, Delia, and Lydia had brought up to the attic for them. Barbara was out almost immediately—it had become harder for Adam to tell, since neither of them breathed in their sleep anymore, but he’d come to notice that Barbara became a bit wispier in appearance when she was asleep, almost like she was translucent. Adam hurriedly rolled over to face the other way and screwed his eyes shut. It wasn’t that it scared him, it was just—okay, so maybe it _did_ kind of scare him. But he wasn’t going to admit that to anyone.

As Adam lay there with his eyes closed, waiting and counting breaths he didn’t need to take, he let his mind wander. Compared to things like sandworms and a dancing roasted pig, he mused, sleeping as a ghost wasn’t strange at all. No, the _strange_ part of sleeping as a ghost was that he still dreamed. Every now and again, he wanted to ask Barbara if she dreamed, too, but—well. That would mean telling her about his dreams, and that was hardly a can of worms that Adam wanted to open.

Adam suddenly found himself floating in a setting he wished he didn’t recognize, and he realized he must have already fallen asleep. The bar was hazy and half-formed; Adam sat on a stool at the grimy counter, watching a silent, muscular bartender wipe down the splintered mirror that covered the wall behind a long counter full of taps and various colored bottles. The mirror reflected shards of a dive bar whose details became sketchier the further back Adam looked. As he turned around to study his surroundings, he noted the green and purple neon lights flickering up above and the insect motif of the bar’s yellowed and peeling wallpaper. On the furthest wall, obscured by the mysterious fog rolling in from the bar’s open doorway, Adam thought he faintly made out a jukebox, or at least the impression of one.

Adam knew he was dreaming, but he wasn’t able to change the way it happened— with this dream, he never was. By now, he knew the script like the back of his hand. He didn’t bother trying to get the bartender’s attention, because he’d tried it before, and it had never gotten him an answer, much less a drink. As Adam cast another glance around the bar, waiting for the dream to progress, he idly thought that he wouldn’t even _want_ to order a drink from a place like this. Instead, Adam contented himself with watching the fog smoke and wisp in the mirror, taking vague, ghostlike shapes before it changed and drifted away.

Despite himself, Adam managed to lose his train of thought in his study of the smoke—so much so that, when a doorway to a men’s bathroom suddenly appeared in the nearest wall of the bar, he was caught off guard by it. But he wasn’t at all surprised to see the man who emerged from it. His heart still tightened and began to beat at the sight, though, for reasons that Adam couldn’t name.

“A-DOG!” Beetlejuice exclaimed, and he threw his arms wide open like a ringmaster at a circus. “Didja miss me?!”

Adam watched himself laugh in the shattered reflection of the bar mirror and was helpless to do anything else.

“I always miss you,” he answered. Beetlejuice offered him a smile—an uncharacteristically quiet, sweet one—and approached the bar to take the stool next to Adam.

From the corner of his eye, Adam watched his reflection lean in closer to the demon sitting next to him—and then his eyes slid shut, and then he felt the warmth of Beetlejuice’s lips on his, along with the rough brush of Beetlejuice’s stubble against his jaw.

* * *

Adam jolted awake, breathing hard even though he no longer needed air. It took him a moment to reorient himself—in his panic, he began to fumble for his glasses on the nightstand beside his and Barbara’s bed, until he remembered he didn’t need those anymore, either. Gradually, Adam took in the sight of the attic, quiet and cozy in the silver moonlight filtering through the window, and the urgency of the dream began to wane. He sighed and pressed a hand to his chest. It was completely still, no hint of a heartbeat to betray him… but he was distressed to find the spot over his heart was slightly warm.

There came the sound of sheets rustling, and Adam looked over to see Barbara sitting up beside him. She yawned and stretched her arms, her body solidifying in the process, and then she fixed him with a sleepy, questioning look.

“Adam?” she asked. “Are you okay, honey?”

Adam sighed and nodded as he offered her a sheepish smile. Barbara’s voice was always so slow and raspy when she was sleepy, and Adam had always found it endearing.

“Hey,” he murmured back. “Yeah, I’m okay. Weird dream, is all.”

Barbara frowned and scooted closer to him. When she was close enough, she leaned back against the headboard and pulled Adam close, resting his head on her shoulder. Adam closed his eyes and relaxed as he felt Barbara’s arm wrap around him and hold him tighter.

“I didn’t know we could still dream,” Barbara mumbled. Adam’s eyes snapped open, but when he looked up at Barbara, she was looking past him, over the edge of the bed and into the depths of the attic.

“You mean you don’t dream…?” Adam asked.

“No, I don’t,” Barbara answered.

“O-oh.”

Adam swallowed and nestled closer against Barbara’s side. He found himself feeling guilty, even though none of this was really his fault… or was it? Adam had ruled out possession when he found that sticking one of Delia’s amethysts under his pillow didn’t make the dreams stop, so obviously that meant something in his subconscious was—

“Hey, it’s no big deal!”

Adam blinked and stared up at Barbara. She had turned her attention back to him, and when she offered him her widest, brightest smile, Adam couldn’t do anything but smile back.

“I barely remembered my dreams when I was alive, remember?” Barbara said. She shrugged and laughed; Adam felt the reverberation of her laughter as his head bobbed on her shoulder. It made him feel warm inside, the kind of warmth that was comforting and not concerning or unusual.

“Yeah,” Adam agreed, with a light chuckle of his own. “I guess that’s true.”

Barbara nodded and reached over with her free hand to pet Adam’s hair.

“You should try to go back to sleep,” she murmured, and then she dropped a kiss on Adam’s forehead. “Whatever you were dreaming about, it can’t hurt you—and if you have a nightmare, just be scarier than it is!”

Barbara gave Adam another smile, and he raised his head to kiss her.

“Thank you,” he murmured against her lips. He felt her smile, and then she nipped lightly at his lip before pulling away.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Barbara answered. “C’mere, you can be the little spoon tonight.”

Adam tried and failed to mask his excitement as the two of them settled back beneath the blankets, this time with Barbara wrapped around his back. He felt Barbara’s breath puff against the back of his neck, slower and slower until it completely stopped—it really was incredible how quickly she could fall asleep. Adam smiled and closed his eyes again.

He counted his breaths to fall asleep, but he was distracted by flashes of thought, memories of the feeling of stubble against his lips and of being held and dipped and kissed like he didn’t weigh a thing. It was enough to get his heart beating again, much to his chagrin—but thankfully, when Adam fell asleep for the second time, the dream didn’t follow him.

* * *

Adam awoke to the sound of birdsong and the sight of sunlight streaming in through the window, casting golden light and heat across the quilted comforter of the bed. When he registered a distinct lack of Barbara lying next to him, he rolled over and frowned—but he was met with empty, rustled sheets and, past that, the wall clock informing him that it was nearly 11:00.

“Aw, jeez,” Adam mumbled to himself. At least it was Sunday, he reasoned—so it was okay if he overslept a little. He threw back the blankets and climbed out of bed. There was a small, amorphous, ethereal pile of clothing lying on the floor by the bed, and when Adam picked them up, they solidified into his shirt and pants. After dressing himself, he stepped out of the attic door and then began lazily floating down the stairs. Most of the time, he and Barbara still walked everywhere, to preserve a sense of normalcy, but sometimes, Adam felt like taking advantage of being a ghost. And besides, he thought, he never floated through walls or ceilings, so it didn’t even really count.

As Adam drifted closer to the ground floor, the warm, inviting smell of coffee and bacon floated up to meet him. When he finally reached the living room and turned to the kitchen, he saw Barbara, Charles, and Lydia all seated at the counter. Charles was nursing a large, steaming mug of coffee and perusing the newspaper, while Lydia sat before a plate full of pancakes drowning in syrup. Barbara wore an apron but had no dishes of her own—like Adam, she couldn’t eat anymore, even if she wanted to.

“Morning, everyone!” Adam greeted. As the trio turned to face him, each smiling and offering greetings, he gently touched down on the floor and walked into the room. “Where’s Delia today?”

“Hi, Adam!” Lydia exclaimed. She scooted her chair over as Adam walked by, leaving room for him to pull up a fourth chair and take a seat next to Barbara. “She’s outside pruning the rose bushes.”

“We have rose bushes now?” asked Adam and Charles, in near-perfect unison. Charles looked up from the paper in surprise, and when his eyes met Adam’s, he huffed a quiet laugh before returning his attention to the sports section.

“Honestly, honey, it’s not like you can’t still _look_ outside,” Barbara said. Adam turned and gave her a sheepish smile, which she answered with a kiss.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he answered, once Barbara had pulled away. “Thanks for letting me sleep in, by the way.”

“Hey, you needed the rest,” she answered. “And Delia and Charles helped with breakfast, so it all worked out!”

“You did?” Adam asked, turning his attention to Charles. “Thank you, Charles.”

Charles lowered his paper again and gave Adam a smile.

“Consider it repayment for when you scared off that bird that kept squawking outside my office window.”

“You know, Dad,” Lydia interjected, “for a guy who keeps talking about getting into birdwatching, you don’t seem to have much interest in birds.”

Adam and Barbara chuckled as Charles cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly at Lydia.

“Eh-hem, yes, well…” Charles set the newspaper down on the counter to regard Lydia. Adam reached for the paper and flipped to the games and comics section. As he picked up a nearby pen and got started on Sudoku, he felt Barbara lean over to rest her head on his shoulder, and he smiled to himself. Adam didn’t think he would ever get tired of this.

“What are your plans for the day, Lydia?” Charles asked. “Got any homework?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” The pout on Lydia’s face was audible. “I have to finish that essay about Titus Andronicus.”

“Is that the one you were telling me about the other day?” Barbara asked.

“Yeah,” Lydia replied sullenly. Adam paused and looked up just in time to see Lydia fixing him and Barbara with a hopeful smile. “I don’t suppose either of you would like to help?”

“God, no,” Adam said. He shuddered and feigned a gag. “After I graduated, I told myself I would never read Shakespeare again.”

“Adam, sweetheart—” Barbara laughed and pinched his cheek in her fingers, before turning her attention to Lydia. “I apologize on his behalf. Shakespeare is the only school subject that Adam has ever hated.”

“Hey, I get it,” Lydia replied with a cool raise of her eyebrow. “After reading this play, I’m starting to wonder if he’s overrated myself.”

“Maybe I could help you with it instead?” Barbara suggested. “I’d be happy to do whatever I can to help!”

“Can you finish my essay for me?”

“Well, except for that.”

Adam and Lydia both laughed.

“Relax,” Lydia said, “I’m kidding. I’d love it if you could read over it and tell me what you think so far, though.”

Barbara smiled and nodded.

“It would be my pleasure. Do you wanna go now?”

Lydia scrunched her nose up in apparent distaste, but she quickly nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, I guess so,” she said. “The sooner I get this done, the sooner I can go work in the darkroom.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Lydia laughed as she rose from the counter. She picked up her glass of orange juice and headed over to the stairs, and Barbara stood up to join her—but not before giving Adam one last kiss on the cheek.

“We’ll be in Lydia’s room if you need us!”

And with that, the two of them headed off and up the stairs. Adam smiled to himself as he watched the two of them go. Lydia looked so different—she was taller than Barbara now, and even though she still sported her trademark goth fashion, Adam had watched as pops of color made their way into her wardrobe over the past two years, such as the metallic purple Doc Martens she was wearing today. As for Barbara, she looked the same as ever; the blessing and the curse of being a ghost, they had found when Barbara tried to trim her hair, was that they always looked the same as they did when they died. Fortunately, Adam thought, he would never get tired of looking at Barbara’s blond curls, or the way the green of her dress brought out that wicked spark in her blue eyes.

When the last vestige of Barbara’s dress disappeared up the stairwell, Adam turned his attention back to Charles.

“Hey, Charles?”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?” Adam asked, lowering his voice as he leaned in closer. He wasn’t sure why he did it—there was nobody in the room to overhear him, and he knew for a fact that sound didn’t carry well from the first floor up to the second. Still, he wanted to be careful.

“You just did ask me something.” Charles barked a single laugh, but Adam flashed him a flat look, and he quickly grew serious again. “Of course, Adam. What’s on your mind?”

“Well…” Adam pushed the solved Sudoku puzzle away from himself before continuing. “Has Lydia mentioned anything about the haunted house to you this year?”

“Oh.” Charles frowned and picked up his coffee mug. “No, she hasn’t. Hasn’t she said anything to you?”

Adam sighed and shook his head.

“I dunno what’s wrong,” he said. “I mean, it’s already September—normally she’d have shown us her second blueprint presentation by now!”

Charles shrugged.

“I’m not sure, either,” he admitted. “At first I thought perhaps she felt she was getting too old for it—but the Deetz Haunted House was always Emily’s pride and joy, and Lydia’s always felt the same way.” Charles frowned deeply into his coffee, and Adam watched as he scrutinized the mug as if it could give him answers. “I can’t imagine Lydia just giving it up.”

“Me neither,” Adam said. “Do you think we should ask her about it?”

“Yes,” Charles said right away, but then he added, “Well, maybe we should wait and see if Barbara or Delia asks her about it first.”

Charles’ answer didn’t surprise Adam—as much progress as Charles had made with opening up and being forthcoming with his emotions over the past two years, he was still the least comfortable of the four of them when it came to asking Lydia about her feelings.

“Maybe,” Adam agreed, but privately, he thought that he wouldn’t mind talking to Lydia about it himself if he had to. Charles took a pensive drink of his coffee, and Adam slumped forward to prop his elbows on the countertop and rest his chin in his hands.

“This might sound selfish,” Adam said, “but I just… I really want to do the haunted house this year, you know?” Charles looked back at him with an inquisitive squint, and Adam sighed.

“Well, Lydia’s graduating and going to college soon,” he explained. “And when she moves out, Barbara and I won’t be able to go and visit her…”

“It’ll be alright, Adam.”

Adam was surprised to hear Charles, of all people, make an attempt at being reassuring. Charles even reached out one hand to clap Adam on the shoulder, though it merely phased through him instead; Adam wasn’t expecting the touch and didn’t have time to make himself corporeal.

“Delia and I are going to miss her, too.”

Adam nodded and gave Charles a weak smile.

“Thanks, Charles.”

Then he stood from the counter, and after clearing the table and wrapping up Lydia’s leftover pancakes, Adam headed towards the staircase, too.

“I, uh, think I'm gonna go work on the model town,” he said.

“I’ll be here,” Charles said. “For now, anyways. I believe Delia mentioned something about going into town this afternoon.”

“Sounds good!”

Adam walked up the stairs and down the second-floor main hallway. As he passed the dark walnut door to Lydia’s bedroom, he could hear Barbara reading Lydia’s essay aloud, pausing here and there to make comments or ask questions. Adam smiled to himself as he continued on, past the doors to Charles and Delia’s bedroom and to Charles’ office, and around the corner of the hallway to the attic stairs.

When he reached the attic, Adam headed over to open the rooftop window. As soon as he did, a welcome rush of cool autumn air swept into the room, bringing with it a few red maple leaves from the trees at the edge of the woods that flanked the house. Adam smiled and took a deep breath, standing in the warm light of the sun for a moment before he turned around to study his latest project.

He’d always had a knack for carpentry, and after he and the rest of the family had finished restoring the house two years ago, there had been very little opportunity for Adam to use his skills. Delia had been the one to suggest the model, and Adam had been skeptical—after all, he’d tried so many hobbies in his lifetime, and so few of them had been fulfilling. But surprisingly enough, he’d really taken to it.

The model was a perfect scale replica of Winter River; or, at least, it would be once it was finished. Adam’s progress depended on a lot of independent factors, like how often Lydia had time to take pictures of the town for him, or how often Charles and Delia could bring back supplies for him. But for today, Adam had plenty of photos and plenty of paint.

Adam pulled up a chair next to the model, grabbed one of his flat brushes in one hand, and picked up the small wooden mausoleum that sat in the middle of the graveyard with the other. As he began painting it, creating a base coat to go over later with patterns of moss and cracked brick, Adam realized he could hear the sound of Delia singing outside, carried up to the attic by the wind along with the sound of hedge clippers trimming away. Everything felt so warm and light and easy—Adam was struck, for the umpteenth time, with a feeling of fathomless gratitude. He’d never even imagined his life could be this good, much less his afterlife.

The weather, the sound of Delia’s voice, and the fresh smell of leaves in the air were all so infectious, all of Adam’s worries dissipated. He forgot about the haunted house, and he forgot about Lydia’s senior year, and he forgot about the fact that he was nearly out of carving wood. He even forgot about the dream that had visited him the night before.

Until Adam set down the mausoleum in its place to let the base coat of paint dry and noticed a new tombstone in the little model graveyard. It sat on a small hill all by itself next to a dead tree, and the text on it was miniscule and massive all at once.

_ Here lies Beetlejuice,_ the tombstone read. Adam swallowed and stared at it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam calls in reinforcements to discuss the tombstone in the model town before the group comes to a decision on what to do about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait for an update! The past three weeks have been wild and my apartment STILL doesn't have WiFi. We're supposed to get that fixed later this week, though, so hopefully things will go a bit more smoothly from here on! Thank you all for your patience, kindness, and comments. It really does mean a lot to me!

For a long moment, Adam just stared at the tombstone, unsure of what to do. Slowly, he reached out and prodded at it with a tentative finger before jerking his hand backwards in fear, but the tombstone was inert. Moreover, it felt like real stone, not the carefully painted foam and wood that Adam had used for the other model headstones. When the stone still didn’t react to Adam’s touch after a few seconds, he stood up to fetch his glasses from the nightstand. Maybe he was just reading the words wrong, Adam thought. It wouldn’t be the first time—

Only, to Adam’s dismay, the tombstone still displayed Beetlejuice’s name even once his glasses were on. Right. Adam didn’t even need his glasses anymore. He sighed and crashed back into his chair, staring at the model in the vain hope that the tombstone might disappear if he looked at it long enough.

Since everything that had transpired two years ago, nobody in the house really talked about Beetlejuice, beyond the occasional “remember when” anecdote shared over the dinner table. Those stories started out fond or nostalgic or even wistful at times, but they usually ended in awkward, sobering, uncomfortable laughter as all the adults of the house remembered the near-disaster that Beetlejuice had caused them all. Only Lydia sincerely missed Beetlejuice—she’d never outright said it, but Adam could tell by the look in her eyes whenever Beetlejuice came up in conversation.

(Well, Adam thought with a pensive frown, maybe he sort of missed Beetlejuice too. But that didn’t change all the horrible things Beetlejuice had done, and it certainly wasn’t enough for Adam to want him to come back.)

When the tombstone remained, silent and defiant, Adam stood up and ran one hand through his hair. He’d have to tell someone about this, but who? Barbara and Lydia were the first ones to come to mind, but Adam quickly reconsidered that; he knew Barbara wasn’t as forgiving of Beetlejuice’s misdeeds as he was, and he didn’t want to get Lydia’s hopes up about what the stone’s appearance could mean. He could ask Charles, but Charles’ grasp on the supernatural was still pretty shaky, as were his nerves. Adam couldn’t go to the Netherworld, because he and Barbara had made a name for themselves there as troublemakers… Briefly, the thought flashed across Adam’s mind that he wished he could just call Beetlejuice and ask what the stone meant, but he quickly dismissed that with a grimace and a shake of his head. What was he thinking? Beetlejuice was the problem, not the solution.

In any case, Adam realized, that only left him with one person he could talk to. He squared his shoulders and climbed through the attic window, out onto the rooftop balcony. Almost instantly, he felt better, as he took in the sunshine of the day and the bracing chill of the air—the rooftop was the only way he and Barbara were still able to experience the outdoors. As the leaves that had collected on the balcony swirled around his feet, Adam approached the balcony railing and leaned over it to look down at the yard.

Delia was still hard at work, wearing a pair of hot pink gardening gloves and wielding a massive pair of hedge clippers. The rose bushes in front of the house were beautiful, their blooms like vermilion flames as Delia shaped the bushes into elegant, curving lines.

“Hey, looking good, Delia!” Adam called down to her. Delia stood up straight and wiped the sweat from her brow with her arm as she looked around the yard, her expression slightly spooked.

“Thank you!” she replied with a hesitant smile. “But who’s there?”

Adam chuckled to himself and leaned further over the railing, waving one hand as he did.

“Up here! It’s Adam!”

Delia looked up at Adam, and when her eyes landed on him, her smile turned into a beaming grin.

“Oh, hi there!” she called up. “I didn’t realize you were outside. Isn’t it a perfect day?”

As if to punctuate Delia’s question, another breeze whispered along the balcony, carrying another smattering of leaves through Adam’s form. It was almost enough to make Adam forget why he’d come looking for Delia in the first place… almost, but not quite.

“It sure is,” Adam agreed with a nervous laugh. “I’m sorry to bother you, but could I ask you to come up to the attic for a bit?”

Delia set her hedge clippers aside and put her hands on her hips.

“What’s the matter?” she asked. Her eyebrows pinched in puzzlement, but not annoyance—in all the time they’d been living together, Adam had never actually seen Delia get angry at anybody, with the lone exception of Juno. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no, nothing’s wrong!” Adam hurriedly replied. “I just, uh… need your opinion on something in the model town.”

“Oh!” And just like that, Delia was beaming again. “Okay, I’ll be right there!”

As she picked up her hedge clippers and headed up the porch steps into the house, Adam climbed back into the attic through the window and closed it behind him. Almost immediately, his gaze fell on the model cemetery, and he breathed a heavy sigh. The tombstone on the hill was still there. Despite the voice in his head telling him to do otherwise, Adam started staring at it, and he was still staring at it when he heard the attic door swing open a minute or two later.

“Hiiii, Adam!” Delia sang as she stepped into the room. Adam jumped and turned to face her. She was still sweaty and a bit dirty from working outside, but the gloves and hedge clippers had been cast aside. “Oh, the model looks so good!”

Before Adam could say anything more, Delia had approached the tables housing the diorama and bent forward to study the buildings lining the replica of Main Street.

“I’m so glad you’re enjoying it,” Delia continued. “You have such a gift…”

Adam smiled sheepishly and rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Aw, jeez. Thanks, Delia.” Then, clearing his throat, he continued, “Now, about the thing I wanted to show you…”

Delia perked up and turned back to face him.

“What is it?” she asked. Her eyes shone with eagerness. “I can’t wait to see!”

Delia looked so excited, it was enough to make Adam feel guilty for what he was about to say.

“So, um—” he chewed on his lip as he approached the model and indicated the graveyard. “I know this is gonna sound crazy, but when I was working on the mausoleum this morning, there was… something else in the cemetery. Something I didn’t put there.”

Delia frowned as she watched Adam, before her eyes flickered back to the model.

“What do you m—”

Then Delia’s eyes landed on the headstone, and she gasped under her breath.

“Yeah,” Adam said. He swallowed and wrung his hands. “I have no idea how it got there or what it means.”

For a long time, Delia didn’t say anything. When she finally looked back up at Adam, her expression was somber.

“You’re not playing a joke on me, are you?” she asked. Adam shook his head right away.

“No, of course not!” he answered. “I would never joke about—about _him.”_

“I believe you,” Delia answered. “I just wanted to make sure…”

She frowned and took a step back from the model.

“Have you been saying his name?”

Adam shook his head again.

“No, I never talk about him, except when he comes up at dinner. And besides, it wouldn’t matter if I did—it only works when living people say it, remember?”

Delia nodded at that, her hand slowly reaching for the clear quartz crystal around her neck. Adam suddenly noticed that she had gone very pale.

“Well, I haven’t been saying it,” she said. “And I know Charles wouldn’t do that, either.” She gave a high, nervous laugh before continuing, “He’s just barely gotten the hang of living with _regular_ ghosts. No offense.”

“None taken,” Adam answered. He flashed Delia a quick, easy smile before growing serious again. “But if you haven’t, and Charles hasn’t, that only leaves…”

Delia’s frown deepened, and she gripped her quartz tighter.

“Lydia wouldn’t do that,” she said, but Adam could hear a note of uncertainty in her voice. “Not without talking to any of us about it first…”

Adam sank into his nearby armchair and rubbed at his temples as he thought. Was it possible that Lydia would try to summon Beetlejuice? It really wasn’t like her to keep secrets… but if she was, why? Why now, and why without telling anyone?

Suddenly, Adam had a realization.

“Maybe it’s something to do with the haunted house,” he said. He looked up at Delia, whose eyes went wide as she returned his gaze.

“You think so?” she asked.

“It’s possible, don’t you think?” Adam shrugged and crossed his arms. “I mean, normally Lydia has all _kinds_ of elaborate plans for the house that she shares with us right away, but this year we haven’t heard a single thing from her about it, even though it’s almost October. And like it or not, Beetle—” Adam paused when Delia made a strangled sort of noise in her throat. “—Uh, I mean, _Lawrence_—was really good at haunted houses. The two of them made a great team… Until the whole murder thing, anyways.”

“I…” Delia pulled up another chair and sat down, too, tucking her legs beneath herself as her frown turned pensive. “I suppose that’s true,” she admitted. “But she’s never tried to have him help with the haunted house before…”

“Maybe,” Adam said with a deep, weary sigh, “it’s because this is her last year living here.”

“Oh, Adam.”

Delia caught Adam’s eye and gave him a deep, sympathetic look.

“I think you’re right.”

Adam swallowed back the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat.

“Well, we don’t know for sure,” he said. “I mean, he’s not here, so clearly Lydia hasn’t summoned him yet, if this has anything to do with her at all.” Adam stood from his chair and began pacing the attic floor. “Maybe he has some kind of… lingering connection to this place. I mean, he did die here, technically, right? So maybe it’s like me and Barbara, and part of him is just… here. Somewhere.”

Adam waved one hand around vaguely to indicate the open air of the attic. Delia’s nose wrinkled as she frowned in distaste.

“I don’t want any parts of him here.”

Even in such a serious conversation, Adam had to resist the urge to laugh at that.

“Well, yeah, me neither,” he agreed, pointedly ignoring the nagging little voice in his head reminding him of the dream he’d had the very night before.

“So what do you think we should do?” Delia asked. Adam paused where he stood to consider their options. There really weren’t very many. They could just ignore the tombstone and hope nothing happened… or they could tell the rest of the family about it. Maybe that way, Adam reasoned, they could figure out what the stone meant or what to do about it.

“I think we have to tell Lydia and Barbara,” Adam said. “And probably Charles, too.”

Delia sighed and nodded. She rose from her chair, and when she was standing, she squared her shoulders and her expression hardened.

“Let me take care of Charles,” she said. “I can break the news to him while he and I are out shopping today.”

“Okay,” Adam agreed. That was probably for the best, anyways—aside from Lydia, Delia seemed to be the only person who could break through the near-permanent haze of anxiety hanging over Charles. And she would certainly do a gentler job of telling Charles about the tombstone than Lydia would, especially if Lydia really _did_ have something to do with it. “I guess I’ll go get Lydia and Barbara, then.”

Delia nodded and gave Adam a grim smile.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Adam,” she said. “Just stay positive.”

And then, her chin held high, Delia turned and power-walked out of the attic and down the stairs. As she descended the staircase, Adam heard her call down, “Charles, honey, are you ready to head into town?”

Adam walked over to the attic window to watch the driveway below. He heard the distant sound of the front door closing, and then a few moments later, he saw Charles and Delia heading down the driveway in their pristine white car.

“My turn,” Adam grumbled to himself, and then he headed downstairs too.

* * *

When Adam stepped into Lydia’s room, he found Lydia sprawled across her bed, lying facedown with her head buried in a pillow. Barbara floated beside the bed, legs crossed as she stared at the essay in her hands.

“Lydia, c’mon!” Barbara said. “This really isn’t that bad. We’re almost done with it, it just needs a little more—oh!”

Barbara looked up and smiled at Adam.

“Hi, honey. Did you get lonely in the attic?”

As Adam shook his head, smiling sheepishly all the while, Lydia grumbled and rolled onto her side, raising her head from the pillow just enough to look at him.

“Hey, you two.” Adam ignored Barbara’s question for the moment and instead continued, “Working hard or hardly working, Lydia?”

Lydia laughed as she sat up.

“You just picked a bad time to come in here. I swear, I was working on it five minutes ago.”

“Is that true?”

Lydia nodded and lifted one hand in a very solemn Girl Scout salute, and Barbara nodded her agreement.

“We’re just in the final proofreading stage now!”

“Cool,” Adam said. “Then, uh—could I talk to the two of you about something?”

His smile faded as he stepped further into the room and seated himself in Lydia’s desk chair. Barbara frowned at him, no doubt sensing his apprehension, while Lydia just squinted at him.

“You’re acting very serious, Adam,” Lydia commented.

“Yeah, it’s… Uh. Hmm.” Adam ducked his head and scrubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “How do I…”

As Adam stared at the blood-red carpet of Lydia’s bedroom, he heard Barbara heave a sigh.

“Adam, baby, just tell us,” she said, her voice equal parts affectionate and exasperated. “Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad, right…?”

And all at once, just like ripping off a band-aid, Adam screwed his eyes shut and blurted:

“I THINK BEETLEJUICE MIGHT BE BACK AND HE’S IN MY MODEL TOWN!”

Adam swallowed and counted to three before he opened his eyes. When he did, he saw that Barbara and Lydia’s faces were both wiped blank, stunned by his words. As Adam watched, though, he saw Barbara’s expression grow serious, verging on angry, while Lydia’s mouth spread into a slow smile.

“Beetlejuice is back?” Lydia asked. Barbara hurriedly shushed her and tossed her essay onto the mattress.

“Don’t say his name, Lydia!” Barbara scolded. Once her hands were free, she unfolded her legs from beneath herself to stand on the floor. Arms crossed, she stepped up to Adam and stared at him. Adam almost felt like he could start sweating again beneath Barbara’s gaze—she’d always had such a gift for being intimidating.

“I think you should show us what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” Barbara said. Adam nodded and stood, dusting off the knees of his pants—and as he did, he caught the slight twitch in Barbara’s lip and the flash of fear in her eyes.

“Y-yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah, let’s go look.”

* * *

“—and the only thing I can think of is that maybe, since Lydia killed him here, he’s still got some connection to the house,” Adam finished, as the three of them stood circled around the model and regarded Beetlejuice’s tombstone. “I haven’t touched it, and I haven’t noticed anything unusual around the house except for the stone, either.”

Barbara reached out and prodded at the tombstone, much as Adam had done earlier that morning. Lydia didn’t touch it, but she did lean in closer, studying the stone with a careful, curious gaze.

“What are we gonna do about it?” Barbara asked. Adam shrugged back at her.

“I’m not sure. It seems harmless enough right now, but I’m not sure what would happen if we tried to mess with it.”

“Well, we can’t leave it alone, either,” Barbara replied. She straightened up and turned to look back at Adam. “Things might progress further if we don’t get rid of it now.”

“Yeah, I was afraid of that…”

Lydia leaned in between the two of them and flashed them a bright smile.

“Why don’t we just summon him back?”

“Lydia!”

Adam and Barbara’s shout came in unison, twin tones of scandal and shock.

“Whaaaat?!” Lydia shot back without even missing a beat. “Listen, we already killed him once, right? And we know what he’s like now, so we know how to deal with him. If he tries to do anything too bad, we can just kill him or banish him again.”

Lydia was right, and yet something about the casual way she talked about killing Beetlejuice made Adam’s stomach twist in discomfort. He stood in silence, pondering his curious reaction, while Barbara frowned up at Lydia.

“Lydia, are you hearing yourself?” she asked. “He tried to kill all of us—not to mention he tried to marry you!”

“Yeah,” Lydia answered, “and then we outsmarted him, remember?” She huffed and pushed her bangs aside before continuing, “Besides, he protected us when it counted, didn't he? He killed his _mom_ for us, Barbara! Doesn’t that count for anything?”

Adam watched as Barbara’s eyes brimmed up with a thoughtful sadness, and her shoulders fell as some of the fight drained from her. She didn’t say anything, but she did nod and place one hand on Lydia’s shoulder.

“I—why would we summon him, though?” Adam asked. He frowned and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I mean, even if you’re right about him… What would it accomplish?”

“Accomplish?” Lydia huffed a dry laugh. “He was my friend, Adam. And don’t act like you two don’t like him, too.”

Adam went tight-lipped as a flare of heat jolted through his stomach at Lydia’s words. His gaze caught Barbara’s, and the two of them stared at each other for a long moment, having a silent conversation. Barbara looked wary, but Adam could see the warm light of compassion lighting her eyes, too.

“I mean, he did teach us a lot about being ghosts and about standing up for ourselves,” Barbara finally admitted.

“See?” Lydia asked. She smiled and stepped closer to Adam and Barbara to wrap her arms around their shoulders. “Besides, if he comes back now, he can help us with the haunted house this year!”

“A-HA!” Adam exclaimed. “I KNEW you still wanted to do it!”

“Of course I do!”

“Then why haven’t you told us anything about it sooner?” Barbara asked. “I mean, Adam and I could have been working on props and construction this whole time!”

Lydia looked sheepish, and all at once, Adam connected the dots.

“You didn’t want to do it without him,” he said quietly. Lydia nodded.

“He was my friend,” she said again. “One of the first ones I made here, besides the two of you. And since it’s senior year, I thought…”

A heavy sort of silence fell on the attic as the three of them looked back at the model town. Adam’s eyes settled on their house. Tall and austere, perched on the edge of town all by itself and snow-white, it almost looked like a ghost itself.

“It should be all of us,” he said. He looked back up at Lydia and Barbara to see Barbara nod.

“All six of us.”

“Really?!”

Lydia looked back and forth between the two of them with wide eyes and a disbelieving smile. As serious as the conversation was, her smile was bright enough to lift Adam’s spirits.

“Yes, really,” he said. “Delia and I discussed it before she left, and she said she’d talk it over with Charles. Go text her and see what she says, and then we’ll all summon him together, okay?”

“Okay!”

And just like that, Lydia took off down the stairs.

“Thanks, Dead Dad! Thanks, Other Dead Mom!”

Adam and Barbara were left standing alone. Barbara edged closer to Adam to lean into his side, and he wrapped a protective arm around her waist right away.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Dead Dad,” she said. Adam looked down and offered her a smile, doing his best to ignore the vague jangle of anxiety that permeated his body.

“Don’t worry, Barbara,” he said. “We’ve got this. We’ll just have to be scarier than he is, right?”

Adam snarled and bared his teeth at Barbara. She laughed and gently swatted at his chest.

* * *

Lydia had gotten the “go ahead” text from Delia almost immediately, but Adam and Barbara had agreed that it would be best to wait until she and Charles got home. If it was going to be all six of them, Adam thought, it was only right that it was all six of them all the way through. So after a very tense lunch, Adam sat at the dining table, looking around at everyone else and their varying expressions of fear, excitement, and anticipation.

“So,” Charles started. “Should we… hold hands? Or light some candles or something?” He looked around the table, searching for an answer.

“I don’t think so,” Lydia answered, her nose wrinkled as she thought. “I mean, all we really have to do is say his name. He’s pretty low maintenance, as far as summoning rituals go.”

“Ooh, hold on!” Delia stood up and bustled over to the kitchen cabinets. She opened one of the doors and grabbed a small plastic container in her hand. When she returned to her seat, she slammed it onto the table, before taking off her clear quartz necklace and putting it down next to the little plastic jar.

“Ack!” Adam grimaced and scooted his chair backwards, and he noticed Barbara doing the same from the corner of his eye. He'd never felt this sensation before—it felt almost like someone was passing a low electric current through him, filling him up with static.

“What, what is it?!” Charles asked.

“It’s sage—oh, no, I guess it affects the two of you too?” Delia’s eyes went wide, and she immediately snapped up the sage in her hands. “I’m sorry, I can put it away! I just thought it would be good to have in case—”

“I-it’s fine,” Adam answered, and he saw Barbara nodding too. She offered Delia a tight-lipped smile.

“It’s good thinking, Delia!” she said. “It doesn’t hurt us, it’s just a little uncomfortable. We’ll be okay, promise.”

“Well, okay…”

Delia didn’t look convinced, but she pressed forward with a smile.

“If we’re all ready, then… I think Lydia should be the one to do the honors.”

“Agreed,” Charles said. Adam noticed that he was beginning to look a little pale. “I mean, it can’t be Adam or Barbara, and it certainly isn’t going to be me—”

“Relax,” Lydia said. She laughed and leaned over to press a quick kiss to Charles’ cheek. “I got this, Dad.”

Charles gave Lydia a weak smile and a shaky thumbs-up. Lydia sat up straight again and took a moment to close her eyes and take a breath. When she opened her eyes again, her entire demeanor had changed; Adam could sense the steely nerve and determination coming from her. He reached for Barbara’s hand under the table, safely out of sight, and found comfort in her cool embrace. Everything would be okay.

“Beetlejuice,” Lydia said. Adam gripped Barbara’s hand tighter.

“Beetlejuice…”

Outside the window, there came the distant sound of thunder, even though it was still a sunny day. For just a moment, Adam felt hot all over, and he could almost swear his heart started beating.

“Beetlejuice!”

Barbara clenched her grip on Adam’s hand as a single wind howled through the kitchen... and then there was nothing. Adam didn’t feel hot anymore, but he was no less on edge. Surely there would be something more, some bolt of lightning or swarm of insects…?

As he struggled not to panic, Adam looked around the table at everyone else. Besides her white-knuckle hold on his hand, Barbara was stone-faced; Delia had the sage clutched to her chest as she cast her wide eyes around the kitchen; Lydia was standing up, her palms down on the table as though she was channeling some sort of energy; Charles was still as a stone, but he had gone deathly pale, and Adam could see how tight the set of his jaw was. Only Beetlejuice looked calm—bored, even, as he sat leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table and perch his chin in his hands.

Wait.

“B-Beetlejuice?” Adam asked. All at once, all five pairs of eyes snapped to the sixth chair that had suddenly appeared at the table. Beetlejuice hastily sat up and blinked, looking surprised at all the sudden attention.

“Hey, didn’t anyone ever tell you guys it’s rude to stare at the dinner table?!” he asked. It was the first time Adam had heard that low, scraping growl outside of his dreams in two years—and, to his horror, it made him shiver. He was faintly aware of Barbara squeezing his hand tighter, no doubt mistaking his reaction for fear.

“Beetlejuice, you’re back!” Lydia cried out. She shot up from her chair and hurried around the table, and with an obnoxious sound of chair legs scraping on wood, Beetlejuice pushed his chair back and stood up to meet her as she caught him in a hug.

“LYDS!” Beetlejuice laughed and hugged her back. “Jesus, kid, you really shot up on me! Got me looking like a regular Danny DeVito over here—I woulda made myself taller if I’d known—”

“You’re perfect the way you are, you stomach-turning cretin.”

“Aww, and you’re still so nice!”

The two of them released each other, still laughing, and Lydia stepped back towards Charles and Delia, who had both stood up from their seats. After exchanging a quick glance with Barbara, Adam stood up alongside her, too. They drifted towards Lydia, Charles, and Delia, all while Beetlejuice stood scrutinizing the lot of them. Adam took the opportunity to study Beetlejuice, too. He didn’t look any different at all—he still wore the same striped suit, and his hair was still an unruly shock of green. But Adam found, with a grim, creeping sense of fear, that he wasn’t afraid of Beetlejuice anymore. In fact, looking at the demon, Adam realized that he found him… compelling to look at. Yep, that was it. Just compelling.

“Oh, shit, the gang’s all here!” Beetlejuice grinned and launched himself at the lot of them. There was a chorus of yelps and near-screams from the adults as Beetlejuice tackled them into a group hug, somehow stretching his arms enough to wrap around all five of them at once.

“I’m so glad you guys decided to have me back,” he said. As everyone scrabbled to get their personal space back, Beetlejuice’s body ended up pressed against Adam, and Adam squirmed to get away from the hot, scratchy tickle of Beetlejuice’s hair and beard against his neck. “I promise I’ll be the best roommate EVER! I’ll get all my chores done without being asked—like eating the trash, and taking the dishes out, and did I mention eating the trash?”

“MISTER JUICE!” Charles shouted above the commotion. His voice was loud enough to startle Beetlejuice, who stepped back and retracted his arms with a snapping sound that reminded Adam of a rubber band. Once everyone had calmed down, Charles dusted off his shirt and placed his hands on his hips.

“It’s true that we all agreed to summon you back,” Charles continued. “But you are here because Lydia wants you to be here, and that’s it.”

Beetlejuice rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it—”

“No, I don’t think you do.”

Adam was surprised to hear Barbara speak up. She dropped his hand, and before Adam could say or do anything to stop her, Barbara stepped forward until she was right in front of Beetlejuice.

“It’s Lydia’s senior year, and she wants you to help us with our annual haunted house,” Barbara explained. “That means being on your best behavior, Beetlejuice. If I hear that you’re even thinking about hurting or killing anyone, or that you’re scheming anything that’s not about the haunted house—”

Barbara seized Beetlejuice’s tie and jerked him down until he was eye level with her. Beetlejuice squeaked at the motion—though, Adam realized with a grimace, it was probably because he liked it, not because he was scared.

“—I will toss you out and feed you to the sandworms myself,” Barbara finished. Then she tilted her head and gave Beetlejuice a sweet smile. “Understand?”

Beetlejuice eagerly nodded.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. Then, with a wink, he added, “Although you’re so sexy when you’re mad, I just might have to—”

“NOPE!” Barbara released Beetlejuice’s tie and walked away from him, not even sparing him a backwards glance as she came back to Adam’s side and took his hand. “Never gonna happen.”

Beetlejuice heaved a deep sigh and stuck his hands in his pockets as he slumped over.

“Aw, fine.” He looked put out for a moment, but just like that, he snapped back to attention and turned a half-lidded stare in Adam’s direction. He blinked slowly and grinned at Adam, and Adam gulped as he felt his nerves alight.

“You’re lucky, Adam, you know that?” Beetlejuice asked. “I mean, if she pegs as good as she makes threats—”

Shit, Adam thought, how did Beetlejuice know that? Had he been spying on them? Was it just that easy to guess? But instead of asking any of those questions, Adam frowned and crossed his arms as he gave Beetlejuice his best “disappointed father” stare.

“Barbara’s not kidding around, Beetlejuice,” he said. “You’d better behave yourself.”

“Aw, where’s the sexy nerd with a dark side I used to know?” Beetlejuice asked, but then his perpetual smirk faded.

“Look, you guys, I don’t think you realize what a big favor you’ve done calling me here. I mean, before this, I’ve spent the past two years—” A strange, pained look crossed Beetlejuice’s features, and Adam watched as his hair shimmered with a purple sheen for just a moment.

“Uh, anyways. I like the Casa de Maitland-Deetz even though you’re all a bunch of squares, so I promise, I won’t do anything to _really_ piss you guys off.”

“Well, thank you, Beetlejuice.” Delia smiled at him and stepped forward to place one hand on his shoulder. She held something in her other hand—Adam saw a chain dangling from it, and realized as she pressed the object into Beetlejuice’s open palm that she was giving him her quartz necklace.

“I have a welcome back gift for you!” Delia continued. “It’s supposed to help clear and purge negative energies.” Her smile grew quieter as she considered Beetlejuice. “Not that I don’t trust you, but we can all use a little help sometimes! My ex-guru Otho, that lying bastard, used to say—"

But Beetlejuice held up a hand to silence her as he put on the necklace. Adam watched as the clear, narrow crystal fell down and nestled itself beneath the fabric of Beetlejuice’s shirt.

“Darla, I think I speak for both of us when I say this: fuck Otho.”

Delia laughed, loud and bubbly and completely catching Adam by surprise.

“Well—I wasn’t gonna say it, but you’re right!”

“I always am.” Beetlejuice ribbed Delia with an elbow, and then he turned his focus back to Lydia.

“So kiddo, about this haunted house—whatcha got?”

“Oh, man!”

Lydia lit up and rushed to Beetlejuice’s side again.

“I don’t have any blueprints yet—I wanted to wait and see if you could come help first—but I’ve got _so_ many ideas. C’mon, I’ll get you caught up!”

And before anyone could say anything more, Lydia caught Beetlejuice by the elbow and began tugging him along towards the staircase to her room. Beetlejuice ran for a few steps to keep up with her, but then he took off, instead lazily floating and letting her pull him along.

“Well,” Charles said, after a long moment of pensive silence between the four of them remaining. “At least he didn’t transform the house this time, I suppose.”

“I trust him!” Delia said. She nodded and smiled around at all of them. “You all saw his hair do that, right? I sense a lot of pain in his aura. I think he really is happy to be back.”

“Well, I trust him, but not as far as I can throw him,” Barbara said. She started towards the stairs, too. “I’m gonna go keep an eye on him and Lydia, just in case—”

Adam reached out and caught Barbara’s arm before she could get too far away. When she turned to look back at him, her eyebrows drawn in a mix of confusion and annoyance, Adam gently shook his head.

“Let’s give them some time to catch up with each other,” Adam said. He shrugged and gave Barbara an encouraging smile. “I really think things will be different this time.”

Barbara sighed and deflated.

“Okaaaay,” she said, and she managed to smile back at him. “I’m sure you’re right, honey.”

Adam nodded.

“Yeah!” he said. “Now then—I think it’s almost time for _Days of Our Lives,_ if you wanna…”

“OOH!” Barbara bolted for the living room and pulled a laughing Adam along behind her. “You’re right!”

It took her no time at all to get settled on the couch and find the right channel. Charles and Delia joined them a few minutes later, too. The four of them were quiet as the opening theme song played, but Adam found he wasn’t able to focus on the show. He just sat there, absently playing with Barbara’s hair as her head rested in his lap and listening to the low, gravelly laughter that floated down the stairs every so often.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Lydia at school for the day and the Deetzes sleeping in, Adam and Barbara find themselves alone with Beetlejuice for the morning. It goes differently than Adam expects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead, and progress with this fic continues slowly but surely! Thank you all for your enthusiasm and your patience. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Somehow, by the grace of whatever entity or force was out there, they made it through the first day without incident. Adam had spent the entire evening on pins and needles, always waiting and listening for any sort of worrisome noise from Lydia’s room. He’d managed to keep Barbara from busting into there to “check on” Beetlejuice, too—except for the one time when Adam came along with her, mostly because he was curious to see what the two of them were up to. But it seemed like Beetlejuice really did intend to behave himself, at least for the time being; when Barbara knocked and opened the door to Lydia’s room, they found Beetlejuice idly floating around, playing with a slinky that looked suspiciously like a centipede while Lydia explained a chart of one of her haunted house ideas to him.

When dinnertime came, Beetlejuice joined them and was, to Adam’s surprise, a decent dinner guest. Sure, he might have produced a bottle of some sort of pungent green slime from within his jacket and splashed some of it onto his plate of _carne asada,_ but at least he was quiet about it. Not long after that, Lydia retired to her room to finish her homework before going to bed, and the adults decided it would be best to set up Beetlejuice on the fold-out bed in the living room couch. (Beetlejuice had complained that Adam and Barbara’s bed had plenty of room for him, but he’d backed down after some light threatening on Barbara’s part.)

So when Adam awoke early the next morning to the same thin rays of sunshine creeping onto the bedspread that he saw every day, it was like nothing had changed. He rolled over to kiss a still-sleeping Barbara on the forehead, crept out of bed to dress himself, and then quietly drifted downstairs to start on breakfast for Lydia. She would be up for school soon, and Adam wouldn’t be surprised if Charles and Delia slept in—they’d been troopers through Beetlejuice’s first night back at the house, but Adam saw how pale and tense Charles was when he had finally gone to bed.

Oh, right. Beetlejuice was back.

The fact reoccurred to Adam just in time for him to reach the living room, where he was met with the sight of Beetlejuice sprawled across the humble fold-out bed, apparently still asleep. For a long moment, Adam hovered there, unsure of what to do; but in just a moment, his curiosity overtook him, and he floated closer to peer at Beetlejuice.

He really _was_ asleep, which was the first surprise—the last time Adam had seen him, Beetlejuice seemed to have limitless energy, and he’d just assumed Beetlejuice didn’t need sleep at all. The second surprise was that Beetlejuice was a quiet sleeper; Adam had expected that, if he _did_ sleep, he would snore. The third surprise was that Beetlejuice was lying beneath a blanket sporting the same plaid pattern and colors as Adam’s shirt. Adam recognized it at once—it was the only shirt he’d worn for the past two years, after all—and yet he still looked down at the fabric on his chest before looking back up at Beetlejuice’s blanket. They definitely didn’t own anything like that in the house, so had Beetlejuice conjured it up himself? And if he did, why?

_Jesus Christ, Adam, why do you gotta be so sexy?_

The memory of Beetlejuice’s words echoed in Adam’s head in response, and he swallowed as he kept staring at Beetlejuice’s sleeping form. He showed no sign of stirring, though; as Adam watched, Beetlejuice rolled onto his side and grumbled incoherently as he curled around his pillow and nuzzled his face into it. Adam watched a little longer, studying the way Beetlejuice clung to the pillow and the fluffy mess of his hair, until all at once he turned away and floated hurriedly into the kitchen.

It was none of his business, Adam thought, as he turned on the stove burners and began quietly getting out the eggs and peppers to make omelets. As long as he wasn’t harassing people or attempting to commit murder, Beetlejuice could do what he wanted, and if he wanted to snuggle up under a blanket that looked exactly like Adam’s shirt, well—

Adam couldn’t stop thinking about that, actually. It made his chest feel tight and hot in a way he hadn’t felt since he was alive. But it was still none of his business. So Adam stood there in silence as he cracked an egg on the skillet and began chopping up the peppers, trying and failing not to think about Beetlejuice’s taste in bedding.

Adam had just finished one omelet and gotten started on the second when he heard the springs of the fold-out mattress squeak and groan, followed by the much more insistent grumbling of Beetlejuice himself. For a second, Adam panicked—should he hide? Should he come up with some sort of excuse?—but then he remembered that it was his house and Beetlejuice was _his_ guest. He had nothing to be nervous about.

Moments later, Beetlejuice came shuffling into the kitchen. Adam turned his way to greet him.

“Good morning, Beetlejuice,” he said softly, to avoid waking the rest of the house.

“Hrmph,” Beetlejuice grumbled back, and then he resumed his shuffling, this time in the direction of the Keurig. Adam watched him as he went.

It was hard to tell if Beetlejuice had slept well or not—his eyes were still ringed by those deep, bruised shadows, and it occurred to Adam for the first time that they were probably permanent. His hair looked the same as ever, too, with unruly spikes of green sticking out in every direction. The only thing that really looked different was his outfit. The suit had been swapped for a baggy, deep violet tee shirt and a striped pair of sweatpants. Adam found himself smiling as he watched Beetlejuice dig through the cabinets for a coffee mug, produce a striped one that Adam was sure he’d never seen before, and plunk it into the tray for the Keurig. It was weird to see Beetlejuice doing something so domestic and… normal.

“Enjoying the view?”

Adam startled as Beetlejuice turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow and giving him a slight smirk.

“S-sorry!” Adam replied. “I didn’t mean to stare. I just, uh…”

But Adam trailed off, unable to think up an excuse, and Beetlejuice, damn him, didn’t say anything. He just kept staring at Adam, his grin slowly getting wider and wider until Adam was spared by the hiss of coffee filling Beetlejuice’s mug. Beetlejuice picked it up and took it to the counter, grabbing the finished omelet as he went.

“Hey!” Adam frowned and raised the spatula in his hand to point it at Beetlejuice, who had already settled himself in a seat at the counter and dipped the omelet into his coffee.

“Hmm?” Beetlejuice blinked, his gaze flickering from Adam to the spatula, and then he gave a low, growling laugh. “Oh, right. Thanks for breakfast, Adam.”

“That’s not what I meant! That was for Lydia!”

“Oh. Oops.” Beetlejuice shrugged and took a bite of the coffee-drenched omelet. “Good thing you’re already making more, then, huh?”

As much as Adam wanted to retort that, he knew Beetlejuice would just keep on being a nuisance about it, so he decided to change the subject instead.

“Why are you able to eat, anyways?” he asked. After taking a breath to calm down, Adam added a bit of salt to the second omelet and flipped it in the skillet. “Aren’t you a ghost?”

“Demon,” Beetlejuice answered, and Adam heard a distinct tone of pride in his voice.

“Okay,” Adam said. “And that means you can eat because…?”

Beetlejuice sighed, set his omelet on the counter, and took a long drink of his coffee. Once the mug was replaced on the countertop, he snapped his fingers, and a small floating chalkboard appeared next to his head.

“Demons—like me—first came into existence because of the sins of humanity. Or something.” A drawing of a stick man with fluffy green hair appeared on the chalkboard. “So since we came from humans, we have to follow some of their habits. Especially the ones that can be turned into vices.”

Beetlejuice took a big bite of his omelet, and the stick man on the chalkboard bit into a massive cheeseburger. With his mouth full, Beetlejuice continued, “Something about knowing your enemy in order to defeat ‘em, y’know?” He waved his free hand, and the chalkboard vanished in a puff of smoke.

Adam had gotten so engrossed in Beetlejuice’s explanation that he’d nearly let the omelet burn. After catching the smell of burning eggs and hastily sliding it off onto the plate, Adam set the skillet aside for a moment to turn his full attention to Beetlejuice.

“Is all of that really true?” he asked. “So you’re like… a _demon_ demon?”

Beetlejuice shrugged and gave Adam a wink.

“Maybe. Or maybe I made that all up. _Maybe_ I only have to eat and sleep because _some_body made me _alive,_ and now I’m stuck dealing with the side effects even though I’m dead again.”

Adam snorted and shook his head, too indignant at Beetlejuice’s words to feign surprise or innocence.

_“You’re_ the one who wanted to be alive, Beetlejuice!”

Adam expected Beetlejuice to bite at the chance to have an argument, but to his surprise, Beetlejuice just snickered and took another coffee-soaked bite of his omelet.

“Hey, there’s the Adam I remember.” Beetlejuice smiled and let his eyes slowly wander down Adam’s body. “I missed ya, stud.”

“Ew, stop flirting with my Dead Dad.”

“LYDS?!” Beetlejuice whipped his head around to stare at the kitchen doorway, where sure enough, Lydia stood wearing a set of spiderweb-patterned pajamas and a fluffy black bathrobe. Adam couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so relieved to see her.

“Yeah, Beetlejuice, it’s me.” Lydia stretched and yawned before continuing, “And don’t yell, everyone else is still sleeping.”

With that, she walked through the kitchen doorway and, much like Beetlejuice had, went directly to the Keurig.

“Sorry,” Beetlejuice said, though Adam thought the wide, eager smile on his face looked anything but apologetic. “But I’m just so excited to see you! I mean, what are you even doing up this early?”

“It’s Monday,” Lydia answered without looking up. Her coffee finished dispensing into her mug, and she started liberally spooning sugar into it. “Gotta go to school.”

“Ooh, we’re going to _school?”_

“No,” Lydia and Adam said in unison. Beetlejuice pouted and crossed his arms.

“Whaddaya mean, no?!”

“You’re staying right here where Barbara and I can keep an eye on you,” Adam said.

“Sorry, big guy,” Lydia said. Coffee mug in hand, she picked up the plate with her omelet on it and padded over to sit next to Beetlejuice at the counter. Adam watched as she nudged his shoulder with hers. “But if it’s any consolation, you’re not missing much, and I take dual-credit, so I’ll be home again by one!”

Beetlejuice grumbled into his coffee mug, but finally, he sighed and nodded.

“Alright, fine! I’ll stay here with the _Maitlands,” _he said, before gagging and dramatically rolling his eyes. “Too bad I’m already dead. I won’t even be able to die of _boredom.”_

“I’ll have you know that I resent that,” Adam said, but Beetlejuice just stuck his tongue out at him. Lydia took a drink of her coffee, and Adam noticed she was hiding a smile in her mug. It softened the edge of his irritation just a little—Beetlejuice might have been annoying, but Adam couldn’t deny that he was glad to see that he still made Lydia happy.

While Lydia finished her coffee, Adam started working on washing the dishes, and Beetlejuice regaled them all with a (highly unlikely, in Adam’s opinion) story about a roadhouse he used to own in the Netherworld, complete with a talking skeleton and a tap-dancing spider for roommates. Beetlejuice was just nearing the end of his tale when Adam looked up and saw Barbara floating down the stairs and into the living room. He smiled and offered her a little wave, which she returned before touching down and quietly walking his way.

“—and _then,_ me and Jacques totally BONED!” Beetlejuice exclaimed, just as Barbara had cleared the kitchen threshold. Adam watched as she immediately crossed her arms and frowned, stopping dead in her tracks.

“Sounds fake,” Lydia said, unfazed by Beetlejuice’s story. “Skeletons don’t have genitals.”

“Ugh, it was a _pun, _Lydia!”

“Yeah, a basic one. Thought you were more creative than that.”

“And _I_ thought you promised to behave, Beetlejuice.”

Beetlejuice perked up and turned around to see Barbara, still standing there in the kitchen doorway.

“Aw, Babs, c’mon! I bet Lydia’s heard way worse than that before. After all, she goes to _public school.”_

Adam couldn’t help snickering at that, much to his chagrin. Barbara’s eyes flitted to him, and for just a moment, Adam thought she would be annoyed—but thankfully, the frown on her face softened, and she dropped her arms with a sigh.

“Well, I guess I can’t argue with that.” She walked into the room and ignored Beetlejuice, instead fixing Adam and Lydia with a smile. “Morning, Lydia! Isn’t it about time you head out? And you’re not even dressed yet!”

Lydia pulled her phone out of her bathrobe pocket, checked the time, and swore under her breath.

“Hey, language!” Adam protested, but Lydia looked up at him with a patronizing smile.

“Adam, I have heard Barbara say much worse, and you and I both know it.”

“Ooh, really?” Beetlejuice leaned forward to rest his chin in his hands. “Like what?”

“Anyways,” Lydia continued, “I just made the executive decision that it’s pajama day at school.”

Barbara frowned.

“Won’t your teachers get mad at you?”

Lydia shook her head.

“Nah, I’m a senior. Besides, I’m ‘a pleasure to have in class,’ so I can get away with anything I want.”

“Atta girl!” Beetlejuice nudged Lydia with his shoulder as she slid out of her chair. “Way to game the system, kiddo.”

Lydia laughed and nudged Beetlejuice back one more time, before coming around the counter to give Barbara and Adam a hug. Adam concentrated and made himself corporeal to hug her back—it drained him to do this for too long, but for a hug from Lydia, it was always worth it.

“I’ll see you guys later,” she said. “Try to get along with Beetlejuice, okay?”

“Don’t worry, we will,” Adam said. When Barbara was quiet for a moment too long, he cleared his throat, and Barbara hurriedly added, “Yes, of course we will!”

Lydia pulled away to smile at both of them, and then she turned and walked out of the kitchen. Along the way, she reached out to give Beetlejuice one last friendly slap on the shoulder.

“And you play nice with everybody, too. You can show them what we started working on, if you want to.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Beetlejuice waved Lydia off, though he still turned in his chair to watch her go. “Have a good day at _school_ or whatever.”

While Adam watched, one arm wrapped around Barbara’s waist, Lydia pulled on the pair of black platform boots she kept by the living room doorway, and after tying them, she stood and walked out the door, bathrobe and all.

“She is _so_ brave,” Adam said, once the door had swung closed behind Lydia. “If I’d worn my pajamas to school at her age, I would have been stuffed inside a locker.”

Barbara laughed and leaned up to kiss his cheek.

“You got stuffed inside a locker anyways, remember?”

“Wow, thanks!” Adam laughed and leaned down to kiss her back. Barbara lingered against him, and Adam turned to face her more fully, his grip tightening on her waist—and then Beetlejuice wolf whistled, and Adam realized with prickling nerves and heat that Beetlejuice was watching them. Watching_ him._ Adam hurriedly pulled away and let go of Barbara, only to find Beetlejuice leering at them both.

“Hey, don’t stop on my account,” he said. His eyes came back to meet Adam’s again, and Adam swallowed and reached for Barbara’s hand.

“Sorry,” Adam said again.

“Well, I’m not,” Barbara said, glaring at Beetlejuice. “And if you’re gonna act like that every time I kiss my husband, I’m gonna stuff _you_ inside a locker.”

“Please, you don’t even _have_ a locker.” Beetlejuice laughed, but Adam was surprised to see a brief cloud of doubt cross his face, and he quickly settled down.

“A-anyways…” Adam cleared his throat and cast an uncertain smile out at Barbara and at Beetlejuice, a sort of peace offering. “Uh, Beetlejuice. Lydia said you all were working on something to show us…?”

All at once, Beetlejuice broke into another wide grin, and then, almost quicker than Adam could blink, he was wearing his suit again.

“Oh, _yeah!”_

He hopped out of his chair, ran over to grab Adam and Barbara by their free hands, and ran off, tugging them towards the staircase.

“C’mon, let’s go to the attic! We’re gonna need a lot of practice space.”

* * *

If it weren’t for the presence of the model town to remind him of how much time had passed, Adam thought, he and Barbara may as well have been where they started two years ago, holed up in the attic with Beetlejuice acting as their teacher. Beetlejuice was aware of the poetry of the moment, too.

“God, you guys, doesn’t this just take you back?” Beetlejuice threw his arms wide open and breathed a deep sigh of contentment as a ray of sunlight, stronger now that the day had truly begun, fell across the attic and shone on him. Adam sat next to Barbara on the edge of their bed, holding her hand while they watched Beetlejuice.

“Seems like just yesterday we were all up here together like a pack of babes in the woods,” Beetlejuice continued. He sniffled and wiped away an imaginary tear from his eye. Barbara huffed under her breath and shifted against Adam, while Adam found himself distracted by the way the sunlight made a little corona that set off the jet and jade of Beetlejuice’s hair.

“Yes, Beetlejuice, we get the picture.” Barbara’s voice was unamused, but it had lost some of its exasperation, which Adam thought was a pretty good sign. Maybe she and Beetlejuice would be able to hold a civil conversation before the month was over after all. “What did Lydia want you to show us?”

“Oh, right!” Beetlejuice chuckled and stepped closer to the edge of the bed, leaning forward so he was eye level with Adam and Barbara. Adam blinked and leaned backwards, caught off guard by Beetlejuice’s sudden proximity.

“I… am gonna teach you guys…. how to _shapeshift,”_ Beetlejuice said in a conspiratorial stage-whisper.

Adam’s grip on Barbara’s hand tightened with excitement as his mouth fell open. He wasn’t sure what he had expected Beetlejuice to say, but it certainly hadn’t been that.

“Shapeshift?” Barbara repeated. She sounded more confused than excited.

“We can _do_ that?” Adam asked. After glancing between the two of them, Beetlejuice stood back and laughed.

“Why, o’ course you can do it, as shore as eggs is eggs!” he said, in what was quite possibly the worst attempt at a redneck voice that Adam had ever heard. Then Beetlejuice snapped his fingers, and a comically large ten-gallon hat appeared atop his head. “See? Ah just turned maself into a cowboy!”

Adam blinked and turned to look at Barbara’s expression. She looked as confused as Adam felt, but there was an edge of impatience there, too.

“Beetlejuice,” Barbara said, “putting on a cowboy hat and a funny voice is not shapeshifting.”

“Yeah, maybe not,” Beetlejuice breezily agreed, his voice back to its usual rasp. “But this is!”

Adam turned back to watch Beetlejuice snap his fingers again. All at once, he was gone—but in his place was a coiled snake, easily big enough to devour a human, its body banded in black and white. Adam shivered and looked further upwards to take in the size of the snake—

“Hey. How are ya?” the snake asked. It still had Beetlejuice’s face, only its teeth had stretched into needlelike fangs, and its eyes were bulging and grotesque, complete with slitted pupils. Adam cried out in fear and ducked behind Barbara, though he pulled her close to protect her, too.

“Holy _shit!”_ Barbara exclaimed, and then Adam heard Beetlejuice’s raucous laughter, along with another snapping noise. Cautiously, Adam raised his head from its hiding place behind Barbara’s back, to see Beetlejuice had turned back to normal. He stood there in the sun, his chest puffed out with pride as he tugged at the hem of his suit jacket to straighten it.

“Hey, Lydia wasn’t joking!” Beetlejuice said with a smirk. “You really _do_ have a potty mouth.”

Adam swallowed and moved more fully out from behind Barbara, loosening his hold on her as he did.

“Beetlejuice, y-you can’t be serious,” he said. “There’s no way me and Barbara can do—that.” He raised his free hand to gesticulate in Beetlejuice’s direction.

“Well, probably not.” Beetlejuice shrugged and stuck his hands deep into his jacket pockets. “Y’all don’t have the juice for it, pun intended. But every spirit can shapeshift at least a little bit! You just gotta learn how.”

“I dunno…”

Adam chewed his lip and turned back to Barbara.

“What do you think, honey?”

Barbara still looked a bit rattled, her eyes wider than normal, but she flashed Adam a reassuring smile without hesitation.

“Hey, we figured out possession and voice-throwing, didn’t we?”

Adam smiled and nodded. Barbara always knew just what to say to make him feel better.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “You’re right.”

Barbara stood up from the bed, and Adam stood with her, dropping her hand in the process. Beetlejuice watched them expectantly with a smile threatening to form on his face.

“Alright, Beetlejuice,” Barbara said. “How do we start?”

“OKAY!”

Beetlejuice conjured up a lectern and stood at it, clearing his throat in a comically over-dignified manner.

“First we gotta get the theory out of the way,” he said. Adam raised an eyebrow and exchanged a confused glance with Barbara. Was Beetlejuice actually going to _teach_ them?

“So the thing about being ghosts is that you two are spirits now, meaning you’re pure energy—like me.” Beetlejuice placed a hand on his chest for emphasis, before continuing, “But _unlike_ me, you used to be alive, so you’re still used to acting like humans.”

“Well, we _are_ still human, aren’t we?” Adam asked. Beetlejuice shrugged and wiggled his hand in a noncommittal gesture.

“Ish. But my point is, you’re all still acting like you have bodies, when you don’t.”

“So what does this have to do with shapeshifting?” Barbara asked.

“Everything,” Beetlejuice answered. “I’ve seen you two float and walk through stuff before. You can do that because you don’t have bodies, right? You’re just souls and energy. Like a jazz concert, only way sexier.”

“Right,” Adam agreed, nodding thoughtfully and pointedly ignoring Beetlejuice’s analogy. He hadn’t been expecting this level of seriousness about the whole affair. “I get that…”

“So you can do whatever you want with that energy, including changing the way you look.”

“So… what, we just snap our fingers and then we turn into giant snakes?” asked Barbara. “That sounds too easy.”

“That’s because it is. You guys gotta start smaller. And until you get used to thinking of yourselves as spirits, it’ll be easier if y’all shapeshift physically.”

“Okay,” Adam interjected, “I am absolutely lost. What are you talking about, Beetlejuice?”

Beetlejuice grumbled, and the lectern dissipated. For a moment, he mumbled to himself, looking very pensive, and then he looked up again with a sudden, “I KNOW!”

Suddenly, Beetlejuice was back in the tee shirt and sweatpants, and he clapped his hands excitedly.

“C’mon, it’s like an acting exercise. I’ll show you guys what I mean.”

Adam and Barbara exchanged another uncertain glance between each other, but after silently agreeing that they were in too deep to stop now, they both stepped forward together, further out onto the attic floor.

“So I learned this one at Juilliard—yes, Adam, I really _did_ go there, you’re not the only smart guy in the room—and I think it’ll help you guys out.”

“Okay,” Barbara said. “What do we do?”

“You gotta think of your body as a lump of clay,” Beetlejuice answered.

“Like clay?” Adam echoed.

“Yeah! Just imagine that you’re a big ol’ lump of clay.”

“Okay…”

So Adam did. He imagined that he was made out of clay. It was a wet, heavy, unpleasant sort of feeling to imagine, and he almost immediately felt foolish doing it—was Beetlejuice just pulling some kind of elaborate prank?

“What do we do after that?” Barbara asked. Adam wanted to sidle over and whisper if she was thinking about being clay, too, but he didn’t for fear of Beetlejuice ridiculing him.

“Just mold yourself,” Beetlejuice answered. “Grab your tongue or your nose or something and pull. See what happens!”

Adam stood there, completely still and feeling completely lost, and stared at Beetlejuice until Beetlejuice crossed his arms and gave a dramatic sigh.

“C’mon, guys, you won’t know unless you try! Here, I’ll show you.”

Before Adam could object, Beetlejuice came right up to him and took his jaw in his hand. Adam startled, and he almost thought he felt the faint impression of a pulse in his neck where Beetlejuice’s surprisingly warm skin touched his.

“Woah, what are you doing?!” Barbara protested. “Don’t touch him!”

“Relaaaax, Babs.” Beetlejuice turned to her and raised his free hand to give her a scout salute. “Didn’t I promise to behave? I’m not gonna break your boytoy.”

Standing still and quiet in Beetlejuice’s hold, Adam met Barbara’s eyes with his own and gave her a slight nod. She didn’t look reassured, but she did nod back at him and take a step away.

“Okay,” Barbara said.

“Thank you,” Beetlejuice replied, though his gaze was still pointedly fixed on Adam. “Now, Adam. Are you imagining that you’re clay?”

“Uh-huh,” Adam breathed. With Beetlejuice’s hand where it was, cradling his jaw, thumb just threatening to press on his throat, Adam felt like he had to talk very quietly.

“Good,” Beetlejuice answered. He leaned in closer and adjusted his grip, his hand coming up to hold Adam’s chin instead of his jaw.

“Promise I’m not gonna hurt you,” Beetlejuice said softly, “but this is gonna feel pretty weird. Just keep thinking clay thoughts.”

Adam swallowed and nodded again. With no idea of what to look at or do, his gaze fell on Beetlejuice’s face as he kept thinking about being clay. Beetlejuice’s brows were drawn together in concentration as he shifted his grip on Adam’s chin again—_I’m just a lump of clay_—Huh, Beetlejuice’s eyelashes were actually very long. How had Adam never noticed that?—_Think clay thoughts_—Beetlejuice’s thumb brushed against Adam’s lower lip, and Adam just barely opened his mouth—

Then, suddenly, Beetlejuice _pulled_, and Adam felt his chin stretch outwards. Beetlejuice had been right—it didn’t hurt, but _God,_ did it feel weird.

“Good, Adam,” Beetlejuice said. “Keep doing what you’re doing.”

Adam swallowed and tried not to panic, focusing instead on the feeling of being clay as Beetlejuice began pulling and prodding at his face. The mirror across the room had a sheet thrown over it, but Adam had the sense that he must have looked pretty scary—when he glanced over at Barbara, she was watching him with wide open eyes and mouth, and Adam realized he could see parts of his cheekbones that he really wasn’t supposed to be able to see.

“There,” Beetlejuice said, and finally he stood back and dusted off his hands. With a satisfied nod, he turned to Barbara. “See? He looks totally different now, and it didn’t hurt him at all!”

“Adam?” Barbara asked. Adam turned to her and winced as he saw fear and revulsion flicker through her eyes before her expression landed on worry. “Are you okay…?”

“Yeah,” Adam answered. Beetlejuice had at least had the courtesy to leave his mouth alone so he could speak normally. “Guess I look pretty scary, huh?”

Barbara gave a sheepish, breathless laugh as she nodded her agreement.

“Yeah, you do. Does it hurt?”

“No, but I feel… weird.”

“And ya look even weirder!” Beetlejuice interjected. Adam and Barbara both turned to look at him.

“How does he go back to normal?” Barbara asked. Adam was grateful that she was the one to broach the subject—he had almost been too afraid to. He wondered if it might involve Beetlejuice pushing his face back to its regular shape again, and how he would feel about it if it did.

“Oh, that’s easy.” Beetlejuice laughed and waved a dismissive hand. “Just stop thinking clay thoughts.”

Okay_,_ Adam thought, he wasn’t clay anymore. He was just Adam.

Barbara gasped with relief and pulled Adam into a hug, and Adam figured that probably meant he had done it right.

“Hey, I’m okay,” Adam murmured, wrapping his arms around Barbara’s shoulders. “I promise, Barbara, it’s alright…”

“Yeah, that was really good for a first try!”

Once again, Adam raised his head, his and Barbara’s moment interrupted by Beetlejuice. The demon looked rather satisfied with himself as he leaned against the attic wall. “’Course, it helps that you had such a good sculptor…”

Barbara sighed, but when she spoke to Beetlejuice, her voice was soft and unusually gentle.

“Thanks for the lesson, Beetlejuice. Do you mind if we practice by ourselves for awhile?”

Beetlejuice groused and crossed his arms.

“Yeah, okay, ‘practice.’ If you’re sexiling me, Barbara, you can just say so.”

“If I was sexiling you, I _would_ just say so. But Adam and I aren’t gonna learn how to shapeshift on our own if you’re here doing it for us, now, are we?”

Beetlejuice opened his mouth to argue, but he was quiet, and after a moment, he just shrugged.

“Yeah, guess I can’t argue with that. Give a yell if one of you gets stuck, okay? Promise I’ll help you, and I’ll only laugh at you a little bit.”

Beetlejuice straightened up and began walking towards the attic door.

“Beetlejuice, wait!” Adam called. Beetlejuice paused and turned back to Adam with an inquisitive look, and Adam shifted, nervous for reasons he couldn’t name.

“Uh… Where are you going?”

Beetlejuice shrugged again.

“I dunno. Lydia got any video games?”

“Y-yeah, in the living room. There’s a—”

But Beetlejuice raised a hand to silence Adam.

“Don’t care. If there’s video games, that’s where I’m going.”

And then Beetlejuice was gone, closing the attic door behind him. The moment he left, Barbara hugged Adam close, and he returned her embrace right away.

“Was it really that scary?” Adam asked.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Barbara mumbled. “But I was just scared because it was him doing it—what if he hurt you, or you got stuck--?”

“Hey, it’s okay…” Adam squeezed Barbara and kissed the top of her head. “It really didn’t hurt, pinky swear.”

Barbara pulled back to look up at him, her eyes gentle and sad.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Adam smiled and reached to boop Barbara’s nose.

“Here, why don’t we practice together? We can see who can make the other’s face look the funniest.”

Barbara laughed and nodded as she withdrew from Adam’s grasp.

“Yeah, okay. But I’m totally gonna win, you know.”

Adam smiled, relieved to see Barbara on her way back to her usual self.

“Yeah, I know,” he agreed. “Here, you can try it on me first. I think I make a pretty good lump of clay, don’t you?”

Barbara answered Adam by squishing his face in her hands. He laughed and let her begin poking and prodding at him, and as she began turning his nose into something resembling a beak, the memory of Beetlejuice’s hand on his neck, grazing his lip, flashed across his mind, and it made Adam feel warm.


End file.
